Hearts
by Random-Battlecry
Summary: Alice, having gained her crown, stays in Wonderland to become its Queen. Bad associations spoil even the purest of intentions. When her rule becomes a reign of tyranny, the Hatter is the only one left to stand up to her, reluctant as he might be.


**Title: Hearts (1/2)  
Fandom: _Alice In Wonderland_, mostly the books but (now) with a slight movie influence  
Characters: Alice, the Hatter, the White Rabbit, the Jack of Hearts, the Joker of the Deck, the March Hare, the Dormouse  
Rating: PG  
Genre: humor/horror/drama  
Summary: Alice, having gained her crown, stays in Wonderland to become its Queen. Beware bad associations; they spoil even the most pure of intentions. When her rule becomes a reign of tyranny, the Hatter is the only one left to stand up to her, reluctant as he might be.  
Disclaimer: Not mine, though you'd _almost_ think they would be, considering how much I write them.  
A/N: Started this a long time ago, and it ended up being long enough that I'm cutting it in two parts.  
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**HEARTS  
Part One**

"I don't like this tea," said Alice, adjusting her crown. "There's not nearly enough sugar available, and _someone_ appears to have eaten all the cake."

When she said "someone" she expressed it very strongly, and sent such a glare at Jack of Hearts that it was clear who she meant. Jack, poor boy, had always been a victim of both rampant hunger and poor eating habits; he paused in the very act of chewing, his round and bulbous cheeks staining as scarlet as his headdress.

"Buh-but, Your Majesty," he said.

"Speak clearly, and with your mouth closed," ordered Alice. Poor Jack followed her instructions to the letter, and though indeed he said quite a bit in his own defense, not another word was heard from him for the remainder of the day.

The Joker, seated smugly at Alice's right hand, sent Jack of Hearts a smirk wrapped in a smile. "A punishment would seem to be in order, my lady," he suggested. "A sudden absence of cranium, perhaps?"

Alice's brow furrowed as she puzzled this obscure language to its logical conclusion, and then her white forehead cleared. "Such a suggestion, Sir! What nonsense!"

"Actually," said the Joker candidly, "lemons birdy-hat bendy-straw three dogs on a mantel. _That's_ nonsense."

"Still," considered Alice, "there is something to be said for learning the consequences of one's actions. After all, if I _didn't_ allow Jack to reap what he _will_ sow, I wouldn't be much of a monarch, would I? And though I don't hold with enforcing a separation of one body part from another— who do you think I am, Sir? I'm the _good_ one— I believe Jack would only benefit from another type of demonstration. He wants cake, does he? Then he shall have it." Her face became uncharacteristically grim. The Joker laughed gleefully as Jack was hauled from the table between two guards, protesting in absolute silence.

"But— but, Alice," said the White Rabbit, poking with one paw at his sliding-down glasses.

"_Queen_ Alice," said Alice and the Joker together; which is quite a difficult trick to do even under the best of circumstances. But only recently had Alice been insisting on the use of her full title; and so the two had practiced. It was a very nice effect, and also a little frightening.

"Queen Alice," the White Rabbit corrected himself mournfully, aware of what a narrow escape he'd had— he had thus been set straight on this point a total of four times, and most only received three before punishment became mandatory.

Alice regarded him seriously. "Had you something else to say, Mr. Rabbit?"

"Oh, er, dear me, no," said the White Rabbit, miserably. Certainly he had something to say, but he prided himself on his timing. This could wait till later.

"Can't we have the punishment, then?" said the Joker, clapping his hands.

"Dinner first, dessert afterwards," directed Alice gravely. "Where were you raised, Sir?"

"In a barn," said the Joker promptly. "Thus my sense of humor and natural affinity for politics. Mooooo," he added, after a moment's thought.

Alice laughed. "Oh, fine, fine," she said. "Good _show_, Sir. Good _show_." The Joker preened like a petted puppy, and the White Rabbit sank a little lower in his chair.

"If I might be excused, Your Queen— I mean, My Alice— I mean, The Majesty—"

The Joker looked hopefully towards Alice, but she only went on buttering her bread with a butcher knife.

"Have you somewhere to go?" she inquired.

"Ah— yes," said the White Rabbit, going nearly cross-eyed from nervousness. "It's very important. And I'm— ah— late for it."

"Well, then," said Alice, with a queenly little shrug of her shoulders. "You'd better be on your way, don't you think?"

Gratefully if not gracefully, the White Rabbit slid from his chair, bumping his ears on the table. Wringing his hands, he hurried from the room, bob-tail bobbing, long feet pattering.

"Phooey," said the Joker, pouting.

"I think I'd like some more cake," said Alice through a mouthful of bread-and-butter, quite rudely.

* * *

The White Rabbit ran at full speed— which was not very fast, taking into consideration his species and the shortness of his legs— down the path leading away from the castle and the attendant croquet grounds. Tucked away in a forest hollow was the home of the Mad Hatter— and it was there that he scurried, his nose twitching so violently that he came quite close to losing his spectacles a number of times.

The garden was empty; the table still piled high with tea things dusty from disuse. A command from Queen Alice had put an end to all but the highest of high teas, to be enjoyed solely by the Queen's closest household. The Hatter had attempted to have an ongoing coffee party, but it wasn't the same; besides which, an over-caffeinated Dormouse wasn't something anyone wanted. He'd followed that with a lemonade stand, but the ice kept melting. One more attempt was made with hot chocolate, but again it failed when the Hare claimed to have burnt his tongue. (Actually, what he said was, "_Ooooh! Ah bunmd mm tahnn! Owowowowow ow!_" followed by a lot of dancing around, but the gist was eventually got.)

The White Rabbit, huffing and puffing but unable to blow the door down, tried banging on it instead. This action was not taken lightly by the door, who had grown tired of such outright abuse.

"You could just ask nicely," it grumped.

"Open!" said the White Rabbit, explosively, then recanted. "I mean, open, er, please!"

"Oh, really?" said the door drily. "I thought you meant 'open _tins_,' and I thought, What does he think I am— a _tin opener_?"

"I must see the Hatter," bustled the White Rabbit, wringing his paws.

"There's a problem," said the door, archly. "What do you think I am— a _window_?"

"But I must speak with him!" insisted the White Rabbit.

"Oh, I see. In that scenario, which do you suppose I am?" said the door. "_Your_ voice, or _his_ ears?"

"I must, I must, I _must_ see the Hatter!" screamed the White Rabbit, wringing some of his fur clean off. "_Now are you going to open, or am I going to set fire to you_?"

The door having swung quietly ajar in the midst of this tirade, the Hatter ventured, "Might I suggest some tinder? I doubt that I'd burn very well." He regarded the hard-breathing White Rabbit quietly for a moment. "Would you like to come in, or just continue haranguing me here on the doorstep?"

The White Rabbit gratefully accepted this kind invitation, sending the door— who was carefully examining the ceiling— a ferocious glare as he stepped over the threshold.

"I'd offer you some tea," said the Hatter.

"But you can't?" prompted the White Rabbit. The Hatter stood and regarded him for a moment, blankly.

"How ever did you guess?" he wondered. The White Rabbit heaved a sigh and, when it was offered, took a chair. He carried it across the room and sat down with it on the sofa.

"I've come to see you," he began.

"I _know_ that," interrupted the Hatter haphazardly, bounding across the room and sitting on a chaise-lounge, tucking both booted feet up beneath him. He gave the White Rabbit the beady-eyed look of a bird that had caught sight of something shiny; or, rather, a Hatter who didn't get many visitors, these days. "My only question about this situation is _why_? Why have you come to see me, of course— not, for instance, why is the ocean blue?" He grinned briefly, an over-enthusiastic set of teeth catching the light and reflecting it brilliantly. "I have an answer for that, however."

"Er, what?" said the White Rabbit, momentarily distracted.

The Hatter leaned forward conspiratorially. "You'd be blue, too, if you had crabs pinching at your bottom," he said.

The White Rabbit leaned back against the sofa and let go of his stranglehold on the chair. Wisely, he decided no more should be said on that subject. "I have terrible news," he said, dabbing again at his wayward spectacles. "Something horrible has happened at the Castle— it's still happening, as a matter of fact. Jack of Hearts is being tortured. His face is being unmercifully stuffed with cake."

The Hatter tapped at his nose thoughtfully. There was quite a lot of nose to tap at, and so this took some time. "I've been feeling a bit peckish myself," he declared eventually. "Do these torturers make appointments, or shall I just walk in?"

"This is not a joke!" shrieked the White Rabbit in paroxysms of horror.

"Then why am I laughing?" queried the Hatter, absolute stone-faced.

"You must do something about it! You were once on intimate terms with the Queen. Surely if you said something--"

The Hatter drew himself up, elongating himself almost beyond the stretch of his spine, his mouth drawing downwards to take up the slack. "That," he said, mournfully, "was a very long time ago. A very long time ago indeed. And don't," he added, as an afterthought, "call me Shirley."

The Rabbit carried on staring at him, having run out of things to say; his supply of frustration and worry was bottomless, however, and a string of soundful syllables, wordless, poured from behind his chattering front teeth. The Hatter glanced at him sidelong, eyes narrowed.

"What can I do?" he asked, suddenly petulant. "The Queen long ago ceased to pay me any attention beyond the occasional request for a new hat. Such articles of haberdashery _hardly_ constitute a meaningful basis on which to construct a request for leniency on the behalf of Jack of Hearts, or anyone else for that matter. And there are _worse_ things than cake, my dear Rabbit. Biscuits, for example, are particularly foul and torturous. Come back when she is stuffing him with biscuits."

"Then you absolutely refuse to help?" squeaked the Rabbit, ears drooping, destitute and bereft, over his forehead. This was not the end he had foreseen.

The Hatter considered this, clicking his teeth together thoughtfully. "I do not _not_ wish to help," he said finally. "That is to say, as to refusing absolutely, such a thing is beyond my powers. A theoretical, not to say hypothetical, abstinence on my part from actually lending a hand, or foot if that was required, would appear to be the most logical course of action, but if there was something asked of me that was easy and seemed possible and didn't mean I had to leave my house, then I should be quite happy to oblige."

The White Rabbit followed this convoluted trail of conversation as though it were a set of train tracks leading into a dark tunnel: that is to say, warily and with frequent glances from side to side to see if anyone was watching. At last he said, "You mean to say that you're delighted to help as long as nothing is actually required of you?"

"Exactly," said the Hatter, with a smile and a quick flutter of his eyelashes.

The Rabbit put a paw to his eyes and shook his head. Refrains on the theme of, "Dear me, oh dearie me, oh dear, oh dear," could dimly be heard to dribble from his overstimulated mouth. The Hatter laced his fingers together, put them against his chin, and eyed the Rabbit seriously for a moment.

Then he said, "I don't suppose you've heard anything from the Hare, old chap, have you?"

"Highly doubtful," said the Rabbit, sniffling, "as he's been undergoing Isolation Therapy these eight months. As a cure for his nervous condition, you know."

"Ah," said the Hatter, somewhat mournfully. He twisted his fingers together till they formed complicated knots of a vaguely nautical formation. "And poor Dormouse? I suppose he's still acting as the Queen's Storyteller?"

"Succumbed to laryngitis last week," snapped the White Rabbit. "Currently undergoing bed rest and quite, quite deep in a state that I'm told is a 'comma.'"

"A comma?" queried the Hatter, utterly baffled as to what his friend would be doing mired in such a small mark of punctuation.

"Something of the sort, I wasn't really paying attention," said the Rabbit, waving a paw. "He's better off as he is, I would venture to guess. Whilst the rest of us, Hatter, languish on in court in perpetual fear as to what Queen Alice is going to do next! Upon my word, she's grown nearly as terrifying as the Queen of Hearts herself!"

The Hatter blanched. "Surely not!" he cried.

"Indeed," said the Rabbit frostily, "and I'd appreciate it if you would in turn refrain from calling me by my first name."

The Hatter drooped his head. "Apologies, my dear Rabbit. I am rather lonely, you know. It's been absolute ages since I've last had a visitor. And Alice, you know--- _Queen_ Alice, I mean to say," he amended, somewhat bitterly, "has specifically informed me that she no longer has need of my services. In fact, the last time I really had a meeting with her was over a year ago, when she wished her crown to be augmented with crystal daisies and a series of rubies that I told her, honestly, were a little overblown and made her look as though she had an unfortunate skin condition on the top of her head, but would she listen, no, she would not---"

"My dear Hatter!" cried the Rabbit. He had in fact been trying to get the little man's attention for several sentences now, but the Hatter had been so intent on his haberdashery-fueled ranting that he had been oblivious to all such attempts. The little man had drawn a handkerchief from an inner pocket and was wringing it between his hands in his frustration. The handkerchief, curiously, was bordered with a delicate lace and embroidered with the petite legend of _A. L._ What significance such lettering has can safely be left up to the discerning reader; the Rabbit, for his part, did not notice. "You obviously are most upset, most upset! Can I suggest to you that perhaps the only hope for a resolution to your problems lies in going to Alice and speaking with her yourself?"

"I don't know," said the Hatter, distracted easily by vagaries of grammar. "_Can_ you?"

"I hope so," sniffed the Rabbit. "I certainly, certainly hope so. My dear Hatter, can you not see that leading a layabout life such as this is pointless and ineffectual and will only end in your perpetual unhappiness and misery? Whilst the rest of Wonderland suffers under the rule of an Alice so misled that she is having the mushroom forest harvested to make room for the world's largest croquet grounds!"

"What!" cried the Hatter. "Not the mushroom forest!"

"Indeed! Burning even as we speak. And I declare, I have never seen the cards quite so pleased as though overseeing the fires. They're positively intoxicated."

"Nonsense!"

"Perhaps, but nonetheless true. Several of them have grown to unprecedented sizes; and let us not even speak of those who have shrunk to infinitesimal mites. They can no longer be seen with the naked eye, and can be safely forgotten about. But the giants, my dear Hatter--- the giants! Think what havoc our Queen could wreak with such giant soldiers at her beck and call!"

"It doesn't bear thinking about," said the Hatter decisively; and, being the type to always take advice when given him, especially his own, he perforce put it out of his mind. This was not difficult, as his mind was so peppered with gaps and holes as to resemble a Swiss cheese. The thought was spoiled for options for egress. With the ease reserved for those not entirely in their right minds, he moved on quickly to a new topic of conversation, granting the White Rabbit a slightly cynical smile. "And the Joker? I hear he is the Queen's new favorite."

The Rabbit's ears drooped, if possible even lower. "Yes. Yes, I believe--- if it were not for his influence, we should be enjoying a gentle rule even now. But he will put his nose in where it is not wanted, and as I am sure you know, where a nose goes, the body follows. If Alice would only listen to a different advisor---"

"But she will not," said the Hatter, nodding decisively. He took a moment to gaze at the myriad folds of the handkerchief in his hands, and tucked it regretfully back into his pocket. "I see the problem. One of them, at any rate. I don't suppose you're open to dealing with the Joker yourself?"

The Rabbit positively gibbered at the very thought. He gibbered wordlessly and at great length.

"Ah," said the Hatter at last. "I see you are not."

"And how would you propose to go about it, in any case?" demanded the Rabbit.

The Hatter looked very much as though he would have liked a cup of tea to sip from at that very moment, so as to provide the proper pause. As there was no tea, he mimed the action, tapping at his mouth with his fingers briefly as though priming himself for speaking.

"I propose to shuffle the deck," he said. "It is the only way, you know, my dear Rabbit. Yes, shuffling the deck will undoubtedly do the trick. In the meantime---"

"I thought you said you weren't going to help?" demanded the Rabbit snappishly.

"I said I did not not want to help," clarified the Hatter, drawing himself up straight once again. "Indeed, if the occasion arrived and it was possible for me to lend a hand, the occasion would not be lacking for fingers. And indeed, once more, what is the advantage of being mad if one cannot change one's mind whenever one wishes? There would not be much fun in it if I were forced to stick to one point of view; and in point of fact, the more confused one's mind is, the easier it is to change it. If one is not in one's right mind, one does well to take up a defensive position in another."

The Rabbit took this in, and could not dispute the logic of it, despite its disreputable source. Indeed, he was pleased rather than not; having come all this way to the final bastion of hope, receiving such a declaration was most gratifying. He felt as though his frustration, his worry, his hopping, his frequent tripping over his own feet, even his argument with the door: all had come to a satisfying conclusion. He even managed something approximating a smile, and nudged at his ears till they stood alert once more.

"What are you going to do about it, then?" he inquired.

The Hatter patted absently at his pocket, wherein the handkerchief with the curious initials was securely tucked.

"I intend to storm the castle," he said, with an amount of focus and lucidity that was strikingly unusual in such a person. "And then, perhaps, a little light rain, maybe a bout of hail or even some high winds. Afterwards, assuming all goes well, it should all be sunshine and roses. And tea," he added as an afterthought. "Lots and lots of tea."

He stood up decisively, suiting word to action, and looked absently around himself for his bumbershoot. Upon finding it, he flourished it wildly, reaching up to check that his hat was on straight.

"Never go anywhere without your umbrella," he told the White Rabbit. "One can never tell when one will experience inclement weather."

The Rabbit stood up as straight as was possible. "I cannot offer you my services in this quest, I'm afraid. I have the heart of a Rabbit, you know."

"I'm well aware of the fact," intoned the Hatter. "I don't suppose you'll point me towards the castle, in any case?"

"I can certainly do that much," said the Rabbit eagerly, and led the way, with only a glare at the door in passing. The Hatter, for his part, knew where the castle was, and had done so for years; but he was grateful for the company.


End file.
